


holding me like this (with poison on your lips)

by Fantasia_fanfiction



Series: TLH Fics [1]
Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Only if you squint - Freeform, Smut, a tiny bit of angst, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasia_fanfiction/pseuds/Fantasia_fanfiction
Summary: He was like the soft grains of sand, slipping through her fingers no matter how tightly she held on, but the feeling of his skin on hers made it worth it every time.
Relationships: Jesse Blackthorn & Lucie Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale
Series: TLH Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909033
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	holding me like this (with poison on your lips)

**Author's Note:**

> A little short based on 'Skin' by Rag'n Bone Man because I thing that's just such a Blackdale anthem and if you've never heard it go listen to it
> 
> It is totally my head Canon that if Lucie had become acquainted with Jesse and none of the Belial demon infection shit happened, they totally would have ended up irregularly hooking up because the tension between them is ✨palpable✨

_Seconds from my heart_  
_a bullet in the dark_  
_Helpless I surrender_  
_Shackled by your love_  
_Holding me like this_  
_With poison on your lips_  
_Only when it’s over_  
_The silence hits so hard_

Jesse only ever came in the night.

In a way, it was useful for them – everyone else was fast asleep, and although none of them could see him, it still didn’t feel right to Lucie for anyone to see her when she was with him. Whatever was between them felt too private, too sacred, to be shared with anyone else. Not that they would understand, that anyone would understand, because who was she to go falling in love with a ghost? That was a special kind of dangerous – a dangerous that felt exhilarating in the moment, but always left her desolate by sunrise. A dangerous like deciding to eat the poisonous berries because they just tasted so good that the consequences never seemed to matter in the moment. A dangerous that she knew had no happy ending, that she knew would result in her left empty, unable to speak or move, shattered beyond the capability of moving on.

But it was a risk she was willing to take.

And the logical side of her brain knew that this couldn’t end well, that there was no future where they got a storybook ending, that the repercussions would be so severe as to prevent any possibility of recovery, and that the echo of his voice would follow her to her grave, but there was no time to listen to the logical side of her brain, not when he was holding her like this, like he had no intention of ever letting go.

This particular night happened to be a very bright one, the moon a stamp of colourless light that presided impassively over its kingdom. It sent shafts of glowing light through Lucie’s bedroom window which spilled across her bed, illuminating the depression in the mattress where she had lain for the past few hours, restless, unable to sleep with his image imprinted in her mind. Eventually she had given up on the futile idea of rest and had found a perch on her deep windowsill, her feet tucked up next to her, and just like it always happened whenever she couldn’t surrender to the claim of the night, her mouth ended up forming Jesse’s name.

Which brought her to where she was now, in a very much different position sitting on her windowsill, getting lost in Jesse, adrenaline running through her. Every sense in her body seemed electrified, as if someone had taken the dial on all of her nerve endings and twisted it up as far as it could go. She felt everything – from the welcome pressure of his lips on hers right down to the lightest brush of air and heat as his fingers skimmed barely across the skin of her shoulder blade. His hands traced the skin all the way down her shoulder and along the front of her arm, igniting a new, unfamiliar feeling at the pit of her stomach and leaving trails of fire in his wake. She could hear his unsteady breathing in her ear like a melody, and her soft gasps the beautiful harmony to his music. She breathed in the scent of Jesse - _her Jesse,_ she thought – unique to him, and tasted forest air on his lips. Most of all, she was acutely aware of how close he was to her, his body crushing hers against the wall, pressed against her form. And, clothed in only her light silk nightgown, when he moved against her she felt more exposed than she ever had before.

When he pulled away from her, she gazed at him, enraptured; the light flush in his cheeks, the dishevelled hair that hung in front of his eyes, partially obscuring them. The way his lips moved as he whispered her name. She wondered distantly if this was how it felt to fly – embraced by the freedom and thrilling excitement of the vast night sky, soaring and plunging, the world at your fingertips. But then, she realised – she didn’t need the world, for at her fingertips she had Jesse – and that was more than enough.

Lacking the patience to wait any longer, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him back into her, raising her mouth to meet his, revelling in the waves of ecstasy that swept through her. Moving her hand to curl against the nape of his neck, she felt him so close to her and yet still not close enough at the same time. It always felt like that – like no matter what she did, the closer she tugged him towards her, the more she got the feeling that he was slipping even further away. It reminded her of when she had been a small child at the beach, and she had grasped the sand in her palms and watched it slip away through her fingers, and no matter how much sand she scooped or how tightly she held on, it always crept away through the gaps, leaving her hands empty.

She held onto Jesse even tighter.

But she couldn’t prevent the inevitable. She knew that – she realised that it was always the same, that no matter how tightly she held on it wasn’t tightly enough, and now his hands were feverishly roaming around her skin and it felt almost like they were fusing together to become one whole, her fingers were tangled in his hair and a shaft of morning light speared through the window, washing him in a pale golden glow and he was beautiful, and then he was gone.

She whispered his name but her hands were empty again, and she was the only one in the room, and the silence was deafeningly loud, hitting her like a truck. Her feet came back up as she reclaimed her sitting position next to the window, staring silently as the sky filled with blood orange and burning pink.

Lucie stayed there all morning as the sun rose.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for listening to my ted talk


End file.
